Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Hunter by Rie Warren - Release Day Blast with Excerpts and Giveaway

From the world of Carolina Bad Boys! Hunter Sexton is too hot to handle..

Hunter:

My call-sign is GHOST. My roadname, too. I keep my head down, stay off the grid, fly under the radar. I’m the rough, gruff, good guy who does bad things for pay.

JB is my most recent mistake. The MC babe is innocence wrapped up in a rockin’ body. Don’t get me wrong, she has a wicked side, too. She’s kickass in bed, when we make it that far. But she’s the ultimate wholesome good girl, and I don’t want to dirty her up.

Hey, no one said life was all fun and games, right?

JB:

Good girl? I prefer to think of myself as a rebellious hellion. I live my life like I ride my bike: carefree, in your face, and full throttle. My soft side? Well, that’s reserved for my job.

I’m not looking for love, and I certainly don’t need any relationship complications. Too bad complicated is the only way Hunter comes.

He’s a quiet, deadly storm. He prowls. He hunts me. He wants me. He’s sexy, sinful . . . secretive. Hunter will turn my life inside out no thanks to his dangerous past about to come back and bite us both in the ass.

Stalking to her, I kept my gaze locked on
hers. “Enough sightseeing.” I returned the photo to its place.

“Something else you want to see?” Wide
innocent eyes the color of a night sky delved into mine.

“Yeah. You. Naked.” On my bed.

I lead her upstairs without another word
spoken. In my bedroom, I switched on a small light because I was not about to
waste this opportunity. Our lips crashed together, and hers were warm and
pliable, her tongue motherfucking acrobatic as it danced and dived around mine.
For a moment, we tasted each other outside of our mouths, lips held open,
tongues touching, and it was so hot I broke away with a groan.

“I need . . .”

“What do you need, baby?” JB’s voice had
lowered to a dirty gritty lusty tone.

My cock lay at an awkward angle inside the
constricting jeans. I popped open the top buttons, worked my hand inside, and
straightened myself. The wet engorged tip kissed my stomach, stretching beyond
the waist of my jeans. “Needed some breathing room.”

“Show me.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“If your cock’s so hard because of me you
can’t fit in your jeans anymore, I deserve to see what I’m getting.”

Far be it for me to argue. I drew my shirt
off and tossed it aside.

My cock needed no coercion making an
appearance. Another couple inches pulsed out of the opening, splitting the
denim wide.

“Good lord,” JB gasped. “You’ve got girth.”

My shoulders shook with a laugh. “Girth?”

“Holy shit, yeah. You’re . . . um”—she pulled her top lip through her
teeth, leaving it shiny and still lipstick red—“thick as my wrist. See?”

She lined up her hand with my shaft butting
out of the jeans. My thighs tensed at the touch of her skin against mine. I
glanced down then slammed my eyes shut. She wasn’t wrong.

“Oh my God.” Her hands flew to my chest,
and I looked at her through half-slit eyes.

I was a man, yeah I had chest hair, a black
smattering across my pecs that formed a straight line down my abs and beyond.

She seemed to approve, rubbing her cheek
against the light pelt then attaching her hot moist mouth to my skin, on the
move to my stomach.

“Not so fast.” I pulled her up. “Fair’s
fair. Top off.”

Crossing both arms at the hem, she winked
before pulling the longsleeve up and off. Encased in a sheer black bra, her
tits bounced, and her nipples were dark, coin-sized, pebbled. As I’d imagined,
hoped, fantasized, she had tiny dots of freckles on her shoulders and across
the high, full, creamy mounds.

Pulling her to my chest, I looked down her
back. Those tempting butterfly tats increased in size the lower they were inked
on her spine until the largest—bright blue, violet, and black—decorated her
skin just above the dimples of her ass.

Finding what I was looking for, I snapped
open the clasp of her bra. I hooked one strap then the other off her shoulders.
When I pushed JB a step back, the bra fell to floor.

I ran my hands from the flair of her hips
to the indent of her waist, over her ribs and up to her breasts. Cupping the
twin mounds of so-soft flesh, I watched her plum-colorednipples peek between my fingers.

“Gorgeous.” I bent, kissing one nub with a
lingering suck then the other. I crouched even farther, trailing the tip of my
tongue from her belly button and up through her deep cleavage. “Freckles,” I
moaned. “I love your freckles.”

I tongued all the little dots I could find,
palming her generous tits, scraping my thumbs across her nipples.

She raked her fingers through my hair
before tugging on it. “My turn to see more.”

I stared at her breasts, frowning. “For a
small woman, you sure are bossy.”

JB cupped her tits, pinching her nipples.
“Small?”

“You’ve got a beautiful cock, Hunter.”

Oh dear God!

“Gonna suck it so good now.”

She slid her lips up one side of my shaft then the other. I watched, out
of my head horny.

When her saliva mixed with my precome, she smacked her lips against the
engorged purple head. She sucked on me, just to the rim and back.

“Is this what you wanted?” JB looked up with big innocent eyes. “Want to
feel dirty with me?”

I held her face between my hands and drove up into her mouth.

After that first touch, I let her blow me how she wanted. My toes curled.
My back bowed. I pulled the bottom sheet clear off the bed and struggled to
hold back.

She came up for a breather with a smile, holding my cock in her hand. She
stroked me, looking at the bulge of veins that stood in relief when she
squeezed tighter.

“Can’t get you all the way inside, but maybe you’ll like this.” She
flipped her hair forward and wrapped the silky strands around the base of my
cock.

She went back to sucking and kissing my tip, stroking my length with her
hair. The thought of the smell of my cock on her hair pulled a loud shout from
me.

“I don’t need one.” She unfolded her arms,
and her jacket gaped open at her chest. She took my helmet from my hands and
slung it onto the handlebar.

“Beg to differ.” She definitely needed
protection from me.

JB made the first move, I’d testify to that
shit in court. She leaned over me and licked her lips. Then my hands were in
her hair, burrowing deeper, and I dragged her to my mouth. She straddled me
when I lifted her onto my lap. The moist touch of her tongue parted my lips.

I groaned, opening up to her talented
lunges, following the sleek kisses into her mouth where our tongues collided. I
wanted to thrust down her throat with my cock. Rip her pants apart and fuck her
until she screamed. Take her on my motorcycle and spray my come all over her
body. The intensity of my reaction steered all coherent thought from my head.

The soul-searing kiss lit me up inside. I
wanted more.

Bad move. One of my worst. I’d regret it
later. Right now I’d savor the way JB moaned, riding my thigh, getting off on
me.

I wanted to have this for one more minute.

I
wanted her.

I couldn’t have her. I shouldn’t stain her.
My soul wasn’t even intact.

With a growl, I pushed her off me. I
steadied her with a hand on her hip as she found her footing.

“What’s your
problem?” JB frowned, her lips swollen from my kisses.

“I can’t. Not with you. Not like this.” I
wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Damn right you can’t. I’m too good for
you.” She zipped her jacket all the way to the chin.

Nothing hotter than a woman with an
attitude who knew what she wanted, but I couldn’t take advantage.

Peeling out of the parking lot, I glanced
back one last time. Big mistake. JB stood under the halo of a streetlight with
one stiff middle finger raised in my direction. And I wanted her even more.

Not
gonna happen.

Only one good thing had come out of my life, and I had
nothing left to give.

Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series–a breakthrough trilogy that crosses traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series.

A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.